Me: It is! I got jumped for drinking mango juice with bits of sick in it. Fifteen huge security guards wrestled me to the ground and gave me a thorough doing. Thanks for sticking up for me, gents.

Him: It was pretty funny.

Mystery Voice: But the- What? Hey? Did what?

Me: How many stars would anyone who isn't me but still involved in this conversation give the Socks?

Him: There are none of those people.

Mystery Voice: Out of how many?

Me: Five.

Mystery Voice: Hmmmmmm... Somewhere between four and four and a half stars. Are we doing half stars?

Me: We're not. Give 'em five.

Mystery Voice: Four and a half of a half.

Him: And a half?(At this point the conversation degenerated into maths and I'm afraid that I stopped listening. The Socks were glorious as ever - the correct star rating's just above the footnotes that'll explain the rest of the Adventure. Don't phone in, it's not for fun.)

Mystery Voice: There y'go. Do you not want to be included in our maths conversation? I've got a conundrum for you. It involves maths.

Me: We could make it a quiz.

Mystery Voice: I've forgotten what is is.

Him: Have you forgotten how long it is?Mystery Voice: It's about three.

I made some mistakes last year, so this ‘review’ is going to be as spoiler-free
as possible.And by that, I mean it’s
largely going to be a list of who we saw and why they were great.Feel free to spend the time you’d lose
reading it doing something fun instead.The world needs more pictures of foxes.

Dave Sim once made an observation2 that I can’t properly remember, but I’m
still going to paraphrase here.Oscar
Wilde was appearing in Cerebus at the time and the gist was that anyone writing
about Wilde has a tendency to start writing like Wilde. It’s the literary
equivalent of adopting the accent of whoever you’re chatting to - which security
guards just hate. Trust me.Seeing as
I’m about to write about puns, I'm obliged to warn you that there might be some in the
following.They won’t be intentional3
but that doesn’t mean there won’t be any.

The Pun Run is an event that was set up
by Bec Hill and usually, unlike David Bowie, appears in London a couple
of times a month.Tonight’s special
Edinburgh appearance was in aid of the marvellous Scope. The Gilded Balloon donated their
Nightclub for it and deserve a massive hug for that, but be gentle ‘cause they’re getting on a bit.

Earlier in the day, the Socks'd announced they’d be making an appearance at this,
and seeing as the times lined up with our helicopter landing, it seemed rude not
to attend.Also, I think it’s important that the
Him get to see as much live comedy as possible.I’ll explain why at the end.

Since last year I’ve developed an
urge to be in the front row as often as possible when it comes to live
performances.I’ve got a theory as to
why, but it’s wrapped up in the exciting conclusion so you’ll have to wait for
that as well.We managed to get seats in
the second row – if you squint at this you’ll notice we’re in almost
every shot – and started sweating immediately.I’m not sure why so many Fringe shows are
held in saunas, but they don’t charge extra for the weightloss which is nice. It’s great
to again be able to fit into clothes that've shrunk in direct proportion to the amount
of typing I've been doing.As we sat down, one of the Socks popped out from behind the side curtain for a selfie.

The night was compered by Darren Walsh, a highly personable and charming fellow
who kept things moving smoothly.And
those smooth things are (and were):

Star of stage and screen and... um... wireless, Milton Jones, who finished the evening with
style.

On the way out I nabbed flyers and shook hands with as many of the performers
as possible, little knowing I was about to be extraordinarily rendered.He’s at the age where he’ll deny it – and quite right too, it’s one of the few perks – but the Him had a fine, fine time.We recorded the proper ‘review’ on the return
flight, but you know what happened to that.

This year’s Stewart Lee show was easily
the best one we’ve seen to date.Even if he’d
disagree. Which he might not. Who can tell?Anyway, that’s about the highest praise I can give.So there.

The venue was substantially larger
than in previous years.

Katherine Ryan’s had a good year.Even
I’ve noticed that.Last year we
saw her in a much smaller sauna and I got left holding a baby.Perhaps some of the current material’s less caustic
than it was, but not by much.She’s an
excellent performer whose confidence dazzles and she makes everything look
effortless.I got papped with her
afterwards – I’m still on the ‘no photos’ deal though, lady and gentleman, so
I’m afraid you’ll just have to imagine.

Simon Munnery’s another act that the
Mystery Voice and I’ve managed to unintentionally miss quite frequently.I’ve got fond memories of being blown away by
FuturTV in general and the League Against Tedium in particular.“Attention Scum!” goes a long way to
explaining the personality I used to wear on stage: blood and glitter glisten so
seductively under stagelights that a terrifying sonic wall merely brings balance to the
show.

Simon Munnery’s performance wasn’t totally what
I was expecting, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.And he
was kind enough to sign the final Dodgem Logic for me.

I’ve signed up as myself on Twitter.There’re a few
reasons for this and only most of them are to do with preening and
#IncomprehensibleSelfPromotion.The
Him’s not as young as he used to be, but then again – who is?Well, I am obviously, and so’re you.We all fixed when we were around eighteen and’ve kept
steering these steadily decaying meatsuits around, trying not to bump into the
furniture, ever since.Which brings me
back to Twitter and ageing.See?Seamless.

Although we've been on Twitter for a while now, I think the time’s come for me
to leave the nest.Since this blog started
things’ve changed, and entropy’s mostly to blame.Following the Him’s encouragement I’ve taken
on various projects that’re starting to move (some of them
almost certainly won’t fly, but that’s okay because foxes need to eat). It’s
not going to be fair, or totally appropriate, for me to push them solely using an account
that represents both of us.

The world’s moved on.Sojalmejuh’s now as near to a self-righteous
moral panic (with digital tar, binary feathers and a hair-trigger) as anything Mrs Whitehouse once rode round on. I’m conscious that doing
- or saying – anything that might result in an attack from keyboard warriors,
can’t involve Him.Even though all our
tweets have all been very clearly attributed, I’ve reached an age where I need
to take more responsibility.Stand on my
own wobbly legs.Get out there and meet
people.Things like that.

The Him’s opinions are his and it’s not fair that there even be a possibility
that people could mistake something stupid I might say for his opinions.Guilt by association and that – he didn’t
sign up for shared accountability. We've got Poe's Law for a reason.

Ah, who am I kidding?It’s yet another
case of the unfunny one in a double-act deciding to launch an unsuccessful solo
career and nothing else.I’ll still
bring my washing home on weekends, obviously.5

Last year the Mystery Voice introduced me to Katherine Ryan and I was blown
away.This year he’d decided we’d check
out two artists that I knew nothing about.Remember, I’ve not watched TV in twelve years.

Other currencies are available. (And far more likely to be accepted in shops.)

Jena Friedman wrote jokes for Letterman
and works on The Daily Show (about which I really couldn’t tell you very much,
sorry).I failed as an audience member
here – a few of the jokes went over my head and got lost in the darkness of the teeny
air-conditioned sauna.We’ve still got a
15 rating, so I can’t go into too much detail about the show, but I’d
definitely see her again.And this time
I’ll do some groundwork first.

The Mystery Voice and myself met Jena Friedman, briefly, afterwards.She signed my ticket and later freaked me out
by retweeting a tweet I got mentioned in before I’d introduced myself to the
Mob.Does that mean I’m real now?

The final act of the Fringe this year was also, for me, the stand-out.I’m not familiar with Aisling Bea, so this
show was a shock.

We got to the sauna early and were given complimentary (and individualised)
paper plates to fan ourselves with.That’s a brave and confident move.“Never arm the audience,” was the first thing I learned during my college
years.6

Well, that’s the problem.I can’t
compare these artists with each other – they’re too different.And, I’m not going to judge them against an
imaginary and arbitrary criteria either – I’m not being paid to pretend my
opinion counts here.And I’m not an
expert.In anything. 7 They made me
laugh and that, surely, is the only thing that a comedian can be judged by.

That’s where this should end.The house
lights’re coming up and the ushers’re making a game attempt at clearing both of you
out, but hang on a second.I said there
was a reason that I think it’s important the Him sees live comedy,
remember?I wouldn’t want you to leave
before the pay-off.

Edinburgh’s a beautiful city.Ignoring
the volcano and castle, there’s a very good reason it’s the capital of
Scotland, a wonderful country full of breathtaking scenery and
incredible people.Unfortunately, I live
in the Arctic Circle of Hell.

That’s not
a new observation.I live in a cold
place, y’see.Most of the year it’s a
barren, colourless and windripped place.Eking out a living is hard.Still, life’s tough all over.Every now
and again I manage to travel somewhere else and it gives me a perspective on
things.Sometimes I travel by
helicopter, train or coach.And
sometimes I travel through words.Whether those’re words I type or words someone else’s typed doesn’t
matter, it’s travel and it broadens both my mind and the borders of my Hut.

Brace yourselves.

The Edinburgh Festival Fringe represents the very best of what humanity’s
capable of achieving.All the poisonous,
stupid stuff’s still there under the surface, naturally, but for a time you can
ignore it.Speaking as a tourist who
lives in Hell most of the year, the atmosphere’s invigorating and the shows
are…

Well…

Near enough every sauna’s laid out the same: a mic stand and a mic.There’s no scenery, very little in the way of
props or special effects, just the performer and the audience.Unarmed, hopefully.There’s a danger to live performance; a frisson; an edge.Things go wrong on
stages.People die up there.It’s a high-risk business.

The stand-up comedian kills or dies on two things:
their words and their audience.The
words, as always, build the world, but more than that, they build the
audience.Luck’s involved as much as
rehearsal, but foxes still need to eat.Not
everyone can make it.Life’s not fair
and, sometimes, those foxes get to chow down on something they don’t deserve.

I read somewhere that performing a
stand-up show is the equivalent of playing Hamlet, but that’s bollocks.It’s much more important than that. Almost anyone can play Hamlet if they can read. Very few people can do stand-up. Stand-up's shamanistic. The words build the worlds.

7.And that includes Doctor Who.I just watch the damn thing, same as everyone
else.It interests me though – from a
sociological perspective as much as anything else.I may’ve read and written more about the show
than some people, but so what?All I can
try and do is type things the way they appear to me, based on all the baggage
I’ve accrued in the last few million years.If it makes you laugh, then it’s good comedy.If it makes you think, then it’s something
else as well.As to what that something else actually is? Well, that's yet another tale for another day.